


Shining Distraction That Makes Me Fly

by NarryEm



Series: Don't Wanna Hurt Anymore (you used to shine so bright) [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3319556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/NarryEm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a shooting star that grazes Niall's life. Maybe it was foolish of Niall to have fallen in love with someone who couldn't stay.</p><p>A prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2287808">Never Deleting</a> so I suggest that you read either before or after this. (Before if you volunteer as tribute to being an emotional wreck.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shining Distraction That Makes Me Fly

**Author's Note:**

> This was 99% inspired by “Fool’s Gold”. The moment I head the first verse and Narry’s heavenly vocals (NGL, had tears in my eyes at Niall’s solo the first few times), this idea sprang to my mind and well, this is what happened.

 

Niall is cycling to the restaurant he works at when zooms past a curly-haired kid who has got his nose buried in a book. He pays no attention to the lad since he is technically late to work and his supervisor-slash-best-mate will not be happy if he has to serve people and shite. He increases his pedalling speed and forgets about Curly in a matter of minutes.

 

“Horan,” Bressie greets him with an arched brow.

“Breslin,” Niall mocks his tone.

Bressie breaks out into a grin. “What is it this time? The good ol’ ‘Louis messed with me alarm’ or ‘Zayn was freaking’ out ‘bout his bleeding wedding again!’?”

Niall laughs. “I’ll have to go with the second option. They finally agreed on a date and had to bring me in as their mediator.”

The former footballer claps Niall on his shoulder—perhaps with more force than what was necessary—and ushers him into the employee change rooms. “Yeah, yeah. Go get changed and tryna look professional in five. There’s a party booked at one and it’s all yours.”

Niall pouts. “Dammit. Why d’ya always lead ‘em to book parties during my shift? I swear, one of these days I’m gonna be a literal party pooper and make all them locals think twice before even setting one foot in this place.”

Bressie rolls his eyes. “The hell you will. I know that Warwick Business School isn’t the cheapest uni around here. Now stop dawdling and get undressed already.”

Niall flips him off, which Bressie ignores. The quasi-blonde sighs as he rethinks his choice to enrol in the postgraduate program for marketing for the umpteenth time. Granted, Warwick is a beautiful town with tonnes of perks—the Naked Rowers calendars being one of them—and it doesn’t hurt that he’s got a few friend and relatives who in close by.

By the time he is dressed in the uniform tuxedo with his hair gelled back, the restaurant is in full business for the day. He checks his mobile and sees that he’s still got half an hour to help out with the party prep and also improvise some party programming.

“Look who’s finally decided to join us!” Liam crows, his eyes crinkled up in his signature puppy-face smile.

“Cunt. You know that Zayn was having another one of his wedding crises,” he points out.

“Whatever. We’ve just been sent the menu and I’m a bit scared ‘cause I’ve never tried to cook the Australian 'traditional' dish before. Reckon that the guest of honour is Aussie?”

Niall shrugs as he takes the proffered menu from Liam’s outreached hand. He scans it and mentally crosses off some side dishes that they could probably substitute in without the party thrower getting a prissy over it. “Possibly. I think that we should switch these out for some easier stuff for the sake of saving time. I’m thinking _carbonadeflamandeor stooflees_ instead of the lamb stew thingy, poutine for the curly fries, try the tourtiere, chicken-Andouille gumbo instead of the oven-roasted chicken, and maybe try vegan jambalaya. Also, since they gave us the free reign for the bar, we’ll go Mardi Gras since it’s around that time. I’ll Google some up and get back to you on it. We good?”

Liam nods. “You’re too good at bossing people around, has anyone told you that before?”

The blond laughs. “A few of my profs. Get to it, then, Mr Top Chef.”

 

 

-

 

 

The first guest for the party strolls in ten to one. He’s got a head full of dark curls and he flashes his pretty green eyes at Niall.

“Hullo,” he says. Niall silently appraises the hunter’s green trench coat and sheer pattern button-down that he’s sporting.  He has got to have at least a passing interest in men. “I reserved a party at one for about twenty people?”

Niall throws on his waiter smile. “Mr Harry Styles?” The chap nods. “My name is Niall and I will be the party leader/assistant, really whatever you need me to be for the party this afternoon. Please follow me. Oh, I’ll take your coat, if that’s alright with you.”

“Ta. And it’s just Harry, love,” Harry corrects him.

Harry is a . . . an interesting character, Niall decides. In the two and a half minutes that he has known Harry, he has already learnt that Harry has an older sister, a pet pig that he has to keep secret from his landlord, and that the party is a celebration for people who are happily single and don’t give a fuck about what the mass media is trying to convey.

“Like that T-Swift song, yeah?” Harry chirps after Niall has shown him the tentative menu. Harry has approved every single item without giving it much thought, not that Niall is complaining. Niall is about to tell Harry that he has been a Swiftie since forever and he is just about to let that be known when Harry fishes into his coat pocket and pulls out his mobile. He plays “22” without much preamble and sings along to it, lyrics, guitar chords, even the drum beats.

“I love her,” Niall admits.

Harry flashes a Cheshire cat smile. “Great. We should get along swimmingly then. Favourite song from _1989_?”

Niall gets this uncanny gut feeling that is in being interviewed or summat, which comes with the territory of being a senior server at a ‘high-end’ restaurant. “’I Know Places’ and ‘Welcome to New York’, can’t choose between them. I find both of them very easy to relate to.” He offers a smile of his own.

“Ooh! I love ‘I Know Places’ as well. Fingers crossed that she’ll sing it live at the tour, yeah?”

“Definitely.”

 

 

-

 

 

The party is a success. Most of the guests leave with endless praises of the chef (Liam blushes every time someone all but begs him to divulge the recipes) and also, in part, to Niall. He’s has always been a people person, is the thing, and making those around him happy and at ease is his second nature. The partyers followed his suggested schedule surprisingly well and he’s seen one too many girls eye him up like he’s the last piece of cake left in a bakery.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming,” Harry starts his ending speech. “I hope you all had a wonderful time and here’s to seeing most of you same time next year!” He pops open a bottle of champagne and the guests laugh as they queue up to take a flute each.

“You were brill, Niall,” Harry seemingly materialises out of nowhere. Niall jumps ten feet into the air and just about manages to not shriek shrilly.

“Th-thank you. Ya scared me senseless!” Niall complains and immediately catches himself. “I mean, uh, thank you for choosing Breslin’s Buffet.”

Harry laughs with his head thrown back. “Why you gotta be so formal? I know I’m gonna sound too forward but I wanna be your friend. That alright?”

Niall’s mind numbs. Okay, so this isn’t the first time that someone has flirted with him during work. However, this is the first time that he is considering saying ‘yes’. There’s something about Harry, something about the way he behaves and acts around Niall that draws him in like a fucking magnet.

“Okay,” he hears himself say.

Harry grins. “Gimme your mobile please?” Niall complies. He unlocks it and exchanges his with Harry’s. He is on auto-pilot as he taps in his number and switches it with Harry once he’s done. Harry has saved himself as ‘Harry Styles (that weird curly-headed one c;)’ and Niall chuckles when he sees that.

“I’m free tomorrow all day,” Niall hints.

“Ring me up and I shall pick you up.”

 

 

-

 

 

Niall is positively _not_ freaking out.

“You’re a dumb,” Ashton, his roommate and best friend mutters. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and scowls at the mess of clothes that is littering Niall’s floor. “And I am not cleaning them up after you’ve gone on your lovely little date despite what my little OCD may lead you to believe.”

Niall looks up from where he is weighing the pros and cons of a red-to-blue plaid shirt and a simple black long-sleeved number. “I’ll do the dishes and laundry for a month?”

Ashton strokes his chin in an exaggerated manner. “Throw in grocery shopping and I’ll even help you pick an outfit.”

Niall jumps up and tackle-hugs Ashton to the bed. “I knew there had to be a reason why I love you! You’re the best mate a man could ask for.”

“Lies,” Ashton jokes good-heartedly. “Hands-down the plaid and make sure to wear the tightest trousers ya can find. And don’t you dare wear a snapback.”

Niall pouts. “It boosts my confidence?” he tries for the sad kitten face.

“Nope, that face lost its effectiveness in the first year of our postgrad. You used it to get me to go on blind dates with that bloke, Josh was it?” Ashton grins like a fool in love. It’s sickening, the way Ashton acts whenever Josh’s name is mentioned.

“Uh-huh,” Niall sits up and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Because you and Josh aren’t playing the waiting game to propose right now.” He gives Ashton a droll glare.  

The brunet sputters. “We’re not—I mean we both wanna but school takes a lotta time—shuddup!” Ashton stutters, his cheeks flaming up.

Niall wiggles his brows as he shrugs off his clothes and puts on his date outfit. Ashton was right, the red and blue does look better on it than the drabby black number. He is struggling into his trousers when the doorbell rings.

“Fuck!” Niall blurts. “Ashton, please stall him for a mo?”

Ashton’s only reply is to cackle as he hurries over to the door.

Niall can vaguely hear the small talk from afar as he finishes getting dressed and sprints out into the hallway. His breath catches in his throat because Harry looks downright edible. His hair is tied back, leaving his brilliant green eyes in clear view and he’s wearing the same coat that he were to the party yesterday.

“Hey,” Harry says with a grin. “Ready to go?”

Niall nods. “Let’s do this shit, then.”

Harry simply takes Niall hand and leads him out of the flat. Glancing over his shoulder, Niall sees Ashton give him a double thumbs-up, which he ignores for the most part.

“So where are we actually headed?” Niall asks as they walks into the lift.

“Would you freak out if I said my flat?” Harry smirks.

“Only if you had the intention to get in me pants,” Niall banters right back.

There it is again: Harry’s angelic smile. Niall swears that he can see the golden halo circling Harry’s curls.

“I don’t screw around on the first date,” Harry winks. “Unless you gave me full consent to do so, of course.”

“Does that mean that you’ll be inclined to say yes if I took me shirt off?” Niall teases.

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitches. “We shall see.”

 

 

-

 

 

Turns out, Harry hasn’t got anything spectacular planned out for the home-date. He makes some quesadillas and a fresh raspberry limeade and they watch some movies on Netflix as they ask the standard first-date questions.

“’You’re Not Sorry’ or ‘White Horse’?” Niall suggests.

Harry groans and buries his face in his oversized hands. “Shit, don’t make me choose. Uhm, if we’re talking lyricism then ‘You’re Not Sorry’. But if we’re talking imagery, I’d go with ‘White Horse’. Speaking of, did you know that there’s an actual city called White Horse in Canada?”

Niall laughs. “Where’d you even learn that from?”

“Tumblr,” Harry admits with a shrug. “It’s a wonderful and scary place all wrapped into one.”

Niall burst out laughing. “What would you say if I told ya that I had a blog kinda dedicated to Miss Taylor?”

“I would follow you, follow you in a heartbeat,” Harry singsongs. They stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment before they both dissolve in to a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

Niall is still giggling like mad when something warm and slightly heavy pushes him down to the leather sofa. It’s Harry, duh, and he puts his face close to Niall’s, close enough to touch.

He takes it as an invitation to tilt his face up and tangle his fingers into Harry’s hair to pull him down for their first kiss.

Niall isn’t sure what he was expecting. Normally, he has little to zero expectations for first kisses, because come on, they are awkward and nerve-wrecking as first. Not this one, though. No, Harry’s lips are insistent yet giving, playful and shy, and perfectly kissable. Niall doesn’t realise that he has tightened his grip until Harry’s moan slips into his own mouth.

“Sorry,” he pants against Harry’s mouth, refusing to let go of the slightest bit of touch.

“Don’t be,” Harry whispers back.

 

 

-

 

 

“I’m always the first one to admit that I’m reckless,” Niall admits with a self-deprecating laugh. “I can’t help that I love bein’ around people and I’ll be that dude who jumps into relationships head first, fearless and all naïve.”

Summer is closing in fast and Niall is planning his visit back to Ireland. Brez has given him a week off, being the generous employer that he was, and Niall has just asked Harry if he’d like to come along.

“I don’t think it’s naïve, per se,” Harry offers. His fingertips drum along the tendons on Niall’s forearm and they are feather-light and airy. Niall shifts his arm away just to be a tease.

“Then what am I?” Niall inquires. His stomach clenches for no apparent reason and Harry must have sensed it for he picks up Niall’s right hand with both of his and raises it to his lips.

“My Nialler,” he replies simplistically. He upturns Niall’s hand and skim his lips on the palm. He flips it back over and repeats the action, but to his ring finger instead. “Mine and mine only.”

“I love you,” sort of slips out Niall’s mouth before he can stop it. “Shit! I mean—fuck, I love that you think I belong with you?”

Harry laughs, his eyes legitimately twinkling. “Why’re you worried? You know I love you.”

Niall’s heart stops. He stares into Harry’s eyes, one, two, three seconds past and the punch line is yet to be revealed.

“Y-you do?” Niall chokes out.

“Mm-hmm,” Harry hums.

Slowly, perhaps slower than need be, Harry tugs on Niall’s hand so that Niall has no choice but to fall into Harry’s arms. It’s a good thing that they’ve been lounging on Harry’s bed ‘doing schoolwork’, otherwise the sofa would have required some manoeuvring lest they fall off it.

“Should I remind you just how far I’ve gone for you?” Harry questions. He doesn’t wait for Niall’s response and gets straight on to kissing Niall’s jawline, one of his weakest spots and Harry’s favourite spot to kiss apart from his lips.

“Or should I list everything single thing about you that makes me fall for you over and over again each day that I wake up thinking about you?” He shrugs off his tattered Union Jack t-shirt and Niall makes haste to take off his own t-shirt as well. He thanks his lucky stars that they have taken a liking to lazing about in only pants because if not, that would have meant wasted time.

“Or you could quit distracting me and skip to the part where you make me feel so good,” Niall counters. He pulls Harry down so that he can retaliate by nipping at Harry’s Adam’s apple and licking it.

“It’s on,” Harry smirks.

Niall laughs.

 

 

-

 

 

“Soz, don’t think I should get on the plane with a raging stomach flu,” Harry pouts. Niall pouts back and dutifully passes a steaming cuppa to him.

“Maybe some other time then,” Niall compromises.

“Of course. Have fun in Ireland, Nialler,” Harry smiles.

Niall doesn’t even have to think about forgiving him; Harry’s already forgiven.

 

 

-

 

 

“C’mon,” Harry coaxes, hand trailing down to the waistband of Niall’s boxers.

Niall giggles as he pushes at Harry’s chest. “No, Harry. Me da can hear us if we make any—hey! That’s not fair, playing dirty!” Niall whisper-shouts when Harry’s fingers dip into the back of his pants.

“We don’t have to, like, fuck,” Harry breathes into Niall’s ear. Niall shudders and his hips rock into Harry’s hand as it squeezes his bum. “I just wanna blow you.”

Niall practically gnaws on his lower lips before he acquiesces. “Stay,” he orders.

Harry flashes him a bemused grin as he makes a show of freezing in his place. Niall hefts himself up and turns around so that he is facing Harry’s feet. Having cottoned on, Harry rolls them over so that he is straddling Niall’s face.

“I love it when you eat me out,” Harry whispers, voice dripping with sex already.

Niall muffles his groan into the fleshy inside of Harry’s thigh. He nips at it in a childish for of revenge. Except, it doesn’t quite work out as he wanted because Harry decides that he should mute himself by swallowing Niall’s cock whole.

Fucking hell.

He’s still mostly worried about his da barging in but he’s only a human male with his penis in another human's mouth so there's that. Redirecting his thoughts is no easy feat and once he does, he starts with showering Harry’s inner thigh with bruising kisses and nibbling his way to Harry’s hole. Harry especially loves it when Niall teases the rim with his teeth on just the right side of roughly and Niall uses that to his advantage. Soon, he has Harry practically purring around his dick and all he wants is to fuck Harry into the mattress.

Niall barely remembers to lap at Harry’s opening until it’s loose enough for Niall to push in with the tip of his pointed tongue. He relaxes his tongue and wiggles it about, only to have Harry clench on it like a vice. Chuckling—which peter out into a groan when Harry deep-throats him—he encircles the walls before he slips a finger inside as well.

“Niall,” Harry moans, his breaths hot and moist as they breeze over the tip of Niall’s sensitive slit. “Can you fuck me?”

“Yeah,” he rasps without a thought. He nudges for Harry to move away and the younger boy complies. Niall has to dig through his duffel bag to find a packet of lube and a condom and the sight he returns to on his childhood bed is sinful to say the very least.

Harry has got two of his fingers tucked inside of him already, curling and uncurling at a staccato rhythm and his flushed cock is drooling on his lower belly. His thighs are spread in a decidedly provocative fashion, knees pulled up towards his chest and his lips are slack as he continues to pleasure himself.

“Feckin’ ‘ell,” Niall mutters as he drops the packets onto the bed next to Harry’s foot. He picks up the lube and fumbles to tear it open. Harry doesn’t bother removing his fingers, rather he demands that Niall finger him at the same time.

“Hurry,” Harry mewls, and a sluice of precum beads out of the slit.

Niall circles Harry’s entrance with his forefinger a couple times before he eases it inside. Harry takes in a sharp breath and exhales slowly, visibly mellowing out as well. Niall crooks his finger into Harry’s prostate tentatively, his teeth making harsh indents on his bottom lip. To both their surprise, Harry comes with a yelp, and Niall almost does too as Harry’s hole clenches hotly around his finger.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve seen,” Niall breathes out in awe. He remembers that he is still hard and miserably so, too. He goes to wrap fist his dick when Harry shakes his head.

“What?” Niall hisses.

Harry smiles sheepishly. “You still wanna fuck me, don’t you?”

“. . . Yeah?”

“Go for it.”

Normally, Niall would have insisted on waiting a few minutes out of courtesy. But he’s bloody wound up as it is and his dick would fall off if he forced himself to wait one more minute before sheathed himself inside of Harry and pounded into him over and over again until he came.

So he does exactly. He rolls the condom on, gently positions Harry to his side so that he’s not, like, chafing against anything, and slides into him in one smooth motion. Harry pants out something that might be the beginning of Niall’s name but he can’t be too sure, his mind fogged up and filled with a never-ending loop of _HarryHarryHarry_.

There’s no going back when Harry reaches back to interlock his fingers with Niall’s tightly, squeezing them as he orgasm wrecks throughout his body again, nearly cutting off all the circulation in Niall’s hand, not that Niall feels it in the heat of the moment. He grips bruises into Harry’s slip hips as he comes with a hoarse cry of Harry’s name bitten into the meat of Harry’s broad shoulder.

He’s fallen without a doubt and he can’t see two feet in front of him. Not unless Harry’s with him to be his shining light.

 

 

-

 

 

At first, Niall brushes it off as the beginning of their plateau stage. He knew that with Harry was busy looking for jobs he could work during the school year.

“Sorry, I gotta hang up,” Harry mumbles. His voice is all muffled and erratic, as though he is balancing his mobile on his shoulder.

“Okay,” Niall can’t fight off the sadness that comes creeping into his voice. He’d been planning to surprise Harry with a weekend to Vaal, where the Dutch, Belgian, and French borders meet on the Drielandenpunt. He’s had the bed and breakfast booked and everything.

The phone goes dead and Niall can’t quite shake off the feeling in his heart that Harry’s not a constant star.

 

 

-

 

 

Zayn has always been a good mate, truly. And that’s why Niall has no qualms about his wedding being a week before his twenty-second birthday.

“This is why you’re the best man,” Zayn grins, eyes glazed over with the half a dozen shots he’s had in the last half hour.

Niall shrugs as he looks around Breslin’s. The restaurant is closed for Zayn’s stag do and it’s been an impeccable party, if Niall were to say a word or two. “It also helps that I’ve known ya since we were in diapers.”

Zayn nods, already eyeing the next glass of something that is bound to cause him some brain damage. “Yeah, bro.” He pauses for a second as he struggles to piece together his drunken thoughts. Niall laughs and waves Liam over, who dutifully shows up with a pitcher of iced water. He pours the water into Zayn’s empty pint glass and forces him to chug.

“Where’s Harry?’” Louis bellows as he stumbles towards their impromptu meet-up. “Thought your _boyfriend_ was gonna hang out with us,” Louis sneers and Niall has to remind himself that Louis is his roommate whom he does _not_ want to punch.

“Family emergency,” Niall smiles as the lie slips out of his mouth without his bidding.

 

Frankly, he hasn’t got the faintest clue as to where the fuck Harry is. It’s been more than a week since he has last heard from Harry and when Niall went to check up on him, the flat was empty of any traces of a human except for some rubbish lying about on the floor.

Niall tried to contact some of Harry’s friends but then he realised that he wasn’t all that privy to Harry’s personal life. The only friend of Harry’s that he met in person was Nick Grimshaw and he was even weirder than Harry.

“I dunno, blondie,” Nick said flippantly. He ran his fingers through his impossibly perfect quiff. “Known him for three, four years and he’s never told me where his hometown is or anything. You sure you didn’t have a falling out? It could have been something tiny and insipid. Sensitive one, that one is.”

“’Kay. Uhm, thanks for the cuppa but I gotta go work now.”

Nick flashed him a sympathetic look. “Take care.”

 

“Is he gonna be your date to my wedding?” Zayn drawls as he slings his arm around Niall’s and Louis’ shoulders. Louis squirms and slaps at Zayn’s hand until he backs off with a puppy face that could rival Liam’s. “Liked that fella. Good hair,” he dissolves into a fit of giggles and Louis joins him.

“Probably,” Niall deadpans. “C’mon, let’s get you more water.”

Niall feels more and more like is a boat on a water that been cut loose with nowhere to go. And Harry was supposed to be the raise on the water that calmed him and kept him grounded.

 

 

-

 

 

Niall should have known.

Harry was a blazing shooting star from the start, one that wasn’t meant to be capture nor fall. Logic dictates that touching a burning substance, even if it’s covered with layers and layers of ice, it’ll burn and leave a nasty scar if not treated properly.

He’s been chasing after a blinding star recklessly and now all that’s done is leave him breathless and broken-hearted.

 

It all comes face-to-face a week after his birthday bash. Harry, predictably, didn’t show up and Niall had to soldier on and pretend that he didn’t want to crumple up on the ground like a piece of paper. He held on until the party was over and every one of his invited friends left the venue. He blinked the tears back until he was back in his flat. He ignored when Ashton tried to ask him what was wrong.

But he couldn’t run away when Harry showed up in his room at one-fifty-eight in the bloody morning.

 

“What?” he snarls, manners be damned.

“I knew I shouldn’t have done it,” Harry blurts out. “I should have asked you out the first time we met or kept it going after that. I’m not cut out for this.”

“Cut out for what? Being a decent human being who respects other people’s feelings?” Niall grits out. He slams the door open and motions for Harry to bugger off.

“I never meant to hurt you, I never did,” Harry tries. “Sometimes I wished that we were strangers so that I wouldn’t have to know your pain. Remember all the things you told me? All the memories that we made? I’m sorry that I can’t be the one who stays.”

“Fuck. You,” Niall shoves at Harry’s shoulders. “Did you ever really love me? Did you fear letting go? I was ready to give you everything, my heart, my soul, my body as long as you could promise not to go away. To hell with that!”

“Niall, I—” Niall doesn’t let him finish. He draws his fist back and swings it full-force into Harry’s jaw. Blood drips down from the seam of Harry’s lips and Niall has to look away before Harry can see the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Goodbye, Niall.”

 

The door closes shut with barely any sound and he can hear the flat door close as well. Slowly, feeling like he’s in a trance, he trudges over to his bedside and picks up his mobile. He turns it over in his hand a few times before he unlocks the screen and sees that he has an unheard voice mail. Acting on a whim, he plays the message.

“ _Hey, Niall, erm it’s Harry.  Happy birthday!  I hope the timing works out and this’ll get sent exactly at midnight.  You know I love you~”_

Niall throws his mobile across the room and scream so loud but no one seems to hear a thing. Maybe it’s all in his head. Or maybe Ashton’s gone off to spend the night with Josh.

He tastes the metallic tang of blood in his mouth belatedly feels the sting on his lips from biting it too hard.

He can’t do this anymore. He doesn’t want to deal with this shit. Not now, not ever. Thinking makes his heart ache and shred itself into a million pieces strewn across the floor and nowhere.

His eyes slip shut as he sways forward and lets himself sink into his bed.

A tear falls down his cheek and seeps into his mouth, mingling with the bloody taste in his mouth.

It hurts too much and he would do anything to stop it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rewriting the end notes and for an unplanned sequel/series, this has surprising amounts of support! Thank you everyone!


End file.
